Every little pinprick in the fabric of the sky,
Each distant star sewn into the veil of night,
Portraying how beautiful it can be to dream,
Yet how impossible dreams are to grasp.
Still, we gaze into those ink-black skies,
Awestruck by the majesty of the universe,
Small; almost insignificant by comparison,
Yet we weigh our tiny, whimsical dreams against the stars.
-Like we were miniature gods,
That we could command this night,
To fulfil our deepest wishes,
Simply by turning our eyes to the heavens and praying.
For what we believe, we deserve,
Greedy enough to believe,
That the night owes us our day.